With a single decisive strike, Garry could no longer hold on. His grip on the power sword slackened, and it slipped from his trembling hands.
He collapsed heavily to the ground, as though all the strength had been drained from his bones.
Even under the effects of combat stimulants, his shattered, bloodied hands were now utterly useless—fingers twitching faintly, incapable of forming even the smallest grip.
The opening was fleeting.
AlphaBravo did not waste it.
While Gerard remained locked in cursed fury and weakened by massive blood loss, AlphaBravo lunged forward. His humming power sword pierced cleanly through Gerard’s right shoulder blade, pinning him in place.
“Impossible!” Gerard spat, teeth clenched, another classic death flag slipping out as disbelief flooded his eyes. “How could you—”
“How could I know you overdosed on combat stimulants and left an incurable old injury in your right shoulder?” AlphaBravo cut him off coldly. “That kind of energy stagnation was obvious the moment I first saw you.”
He tilted his head slightly, a faint trace of mocking pity in his tone.
“By the way, your true form beneath that psychic illusion… is quite ugly. Garry calling you a monster wasn’t unfair at all.”
“Damn you…”
As if to confirm his words, Gerard’s unstable mental state caused the psychic illusion to shatter.
His true face was revealed.
It was grotesque—dense, dark-red compound eyes replaced his natural ones, and a circular, lipless mouth revealed rows of sharp fangs.
“Heh… heh heh…” Garry, still slumped on the ground, let out a weak, lewd laugh. “I won’t say who looks more like AlphaBravo…”
“The three of us are mentally stable and have no desire to torture anyone,” AlphaBravo said calmly.
He slowly raised his sword, aiming it at Gerard’s head.
“Let’s end this cleanly.”
But just as the blade descended—
Clang—!
A clear, resonant sword tone rang out.
A flash of white light—too fast to perceive—streaked across the battlefield and vanished.
When the three players regained their senses, they were already lying on the ground.
Their limbs had been severed with surgical precision, and they lay helpless in a spreading pool of blood.
A new figure stood before them.
“Gerard,” the newcomer said slowly.
Clad in ornate purple power armor, he walked calmly to Gerard’s side. “I know you’re a rookie with less than a century of service… but being pushed this far by three mortals? That’s a bit green, don’t you think?”
He was also a Space Marine. Unlike Gerard, however, his presence required no illusion to appear flawless.
“Lord Yarvis…” Gerard began, then stopped himself. He lowered his head. “…I apologize. I was too complacent.”
“Hm.” Yarvis nodded with quiet satisfaction. “It’s fine. As long as you’re still alive.”
After all, in a warband, one less is simply one less.
No one could tell what he would have done if Gerard had offered excuses instead of contrition.
Yarvis turned his attention to the three incapacitated players.
“Five minutes ago,” he said lightly, “while tuning my instrument, I felt someone watching me.”
“At first, I thought it was my imagination. But the feeling lingered… and I realized—little mice had slipped in.”
He shrugged elegantly.
“So I followed the sensation here. I just wanted to see what these little mice were up to.”
His gaze flicked toward Gerard.
“And then I found you being defeated by them. Hah… three mortals working together to bring down a Space Marine. The galaxy truly never stops surprising me.”
“Hearing you say that…” AlphaBravo forced out, struggling against nerves severed with clinical precision. “Are you a veteran? Why betray humanity?”
“Still probing at a time like this? How interesting.”
Yarvis chuckled softly.
“I was elevated to Astartes during the Legion era… and I have survived until now.”
“…Holy shit, a ten-thousand-year veteran,” all three players thought in unison, mentally cursing some unfortunate Governor’s household a thousand times over.
“I’ve answered your question,” Yarvis continued. “Now answer mine.”
His gaze settled on AlphaBravo.
“Your eyes… they seem rather special, don’t they?”
Alarm bells rang instantly in all three minds.
Without hesitation, they triggered the explosives hidden within their bodies.
BOOM—!!!
A violent blast engulfed the area.
When the smoke cleared, only a charred crater remained. The three players were gone without a trace.
Yarvis and Gerard stood at the edge of the destruction, untouched.
“How decisive,” Yarvis murmured.
A faint regret crossed his expression. “A pity… I failed to notice they were mechanically augmented.”
He dismissed the crater and turned away, retrieving something from behind his back.
An ornate, sinister instrument.
A War-howl Guitar.
It was crafted from pale beast bone and polished purple-gold metal, etched with countless faces frozen between ecstasy and agony. Six strings pulsed with faint psychic light in the dimness.
His slender fingers brushed the strings.
He plucked a note.
No loud sound followed—only a warped, seductive resonance.
The tone spread like a ripple across still water.
Invisible and invasive, the melody seeped through walls, corridors, and sealed chambers, threading itself through the entire Governor’s Mansion like a living thing.
Every corner was touched.
Every shadow heard it.
Throughout the mansion, the Slaaneshi Space Marines paused in their revelry and slaughter.
“Lord Yarvis is calling…”
“Heh… seems new toys have arrived.”